


prove it

by mondaiboi



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Biting, Dom/sub Undertones, Kayfabe Compliant, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Ricochet, alternate title: if that backstage promo had gone a different way, mlm author, pete: (holds his titles in his mouth) ricochet: do you eat pussy like that???, they be fuckin (in a hallway), trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 20:50:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16312481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondaiboi/pseuds/mondaiboi
Summary: post tag match vs undisputed era (8/29/18), the uk and na champ settle their (sexually tense) frustrations with each other





	prove it

Once they make their way backstage, Pete grabs Ricochet’s arm and tugs him into an empty hallway. He shoves his tag partner by his shoulders against the wall.  
“Hey- that wasn’t my fault!” Ricochet puts his hands up defensively.   
“That was entirely your fault.” Pete holds his head where it had hit the entrance ramp, gritting his teeth in pain.   
“You don’t even know anything, dog, it was their fault.” He gestures in the direction of the stage, where the sound of Undisputed’s theme still drifts from. Pete scoffs.  
“I know what I’m doin’- I’ve been champion for 450 days and counting. You’ve been here for five minutes. If you had stopped to see where you were bloody goin’, that wouldn’t have happened in the first place!”  
Ricochet laughs with no humor in his voice. “Yeah, you’ve said that before. Listen: it don’t matter how long you’ve been champion. You? You can’t do what I can do inside that ring.”   
“Are you willin’ to prove that?” Pete sizes him up, forcing his back against the wall. As if the sideways looks on their way to the ring hadn’t been enough already.   
“What, you wanna leave a mark on me, bruiserweight?” Ricochet runs his eyes over Pete.  
“You wanna learn how sharp my teeth are?” Pete retorts and moves forward. It’s clear to both men that they are no longer talking about wrestling. 

Ricochet hooks a finger under the strap of Pete’s singlet, beckoning him closer. He responds by grabbing Ricochet’s hips and placing his leg between the other’s thighs. Ricochet’s hands move without him thinking, pulling Pete’s head in and closing the space between their lips. He kisses Ricochet long and hard, biting his lip as he pulled away for air. Pete begins to unbutton Ricochet’s pants, letting his fingers dip below the waistband of the other man’s underwear as he bit into his neck. Ricochet moans, encouraging Pete to continue. In a whirl of movement, Pete pushes their championship belts off the nearby set box and lifts Ricochet so he is sitting on top with Pete between his legs. He catches a glimpse of Pete’s cocky smile as he sinks to his knees, pulling downs Ricochet’s pants as he goes. Despite being the one on his knees, Pete’s in control. One brush of his hand from Ricochet’s stomach down to his pelvis has his legs shaking. Pete nips and sucks at his thighs, leaving marks that make Ricochet thankful he doesn’t wrestle in trunks.

“Please,” He practically begs Pete to go further. He obliges, pulling Ricochet’s legs over his shoulder. Ricochet’s breath hitches when he feels Pete’s tongue on him. His fingers curl into the other man’s hair as he begins to suck. The hand not on Pete’s head digs into his shoulder as the heat builds, until Ricochet is gasping.  
“Oh god, I’m going to-” Pete removes his mouth from Ricochet, who groans in frustration.   
“I’m not letting you come so soon,” He smirks. “Get on your knees.” Ricochet obeys, standing up off the set box and sinks down. Pete pulls down his singlet, exposing himself. Ricochet grabs his dick, stroking him slowly before putting it into his mouth. Pete’s hands come behind Ricochet’s head, guiding him up and down.  
“Dammit,” Pete breathes as Ricochet pulls off him, both of them gasping for breath. Ricochet stands, leaning into Pete, who slips a hand between Ricochet’s thighs as he groans desperately.   
“You like that?” Pete asks smugly. He lifts Ricochet back onto the set box, who wraps his legs around his waist.  
“Want me that bad, huh?” Pete grabs his cock, slowly pushing it inside Ricochet.  
“You want to make up for that bloody pathetic loss? You want to prove yourself?” Pete taunts as he rolls his hips into him. “You want to do me some fuckin’ good?”  
“A-ah, fuck- yes!” Ricochet’s nails dig into Pete’s back, leaving scratches down his spine.  
“Then come for me,” he tightens his grip on Ricochet’s hips and thrusts deeper into him. “C’mon, come for me, do it,”   
Ricochet claws onto Pete with a gasp, legs trembling as he feels the other finish inside of him. 

After several moments of catching their breath, the two release their grips on each other and pull their gear back on. Pete bends down and picks up the belts that had fallen aside earlier. He slings the UK championship over his shoulder, but holds Ricochet’s title tentatively, daring to hold it between his teeth as if it was his own. Ricochet stands and goes to retrieve his belt, but Pete apparently has other ideas, taking it out of his mouth and dragging his tongue across the leather as he does so, and drops it on the floor. The UK champion backs away, blowing a kiss at Ricochet before turning around and heading towards the locker room, leaving the other with a strange feeling of fiery butterflies in his stomach.


End file.
